


happy hunting

by eggstasy



Series: Blood Gulch Freelancers [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Blood Gulch Freelancers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 20:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6822904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggstasy/pseuds/eggstasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Freelancers of the MoI and the Freelancers of Valhalla Station meet and it goes just about as well as can be expected.</p><p>Meanwhile, the conspiracy around Alpha's capture and retrieval darkens as his health takes a devastating turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	happy hunting

“ _Twins!”_ Rhode Island shouts the second they step off the Pelican, which is what sets the tone for the entire meeting.

Carolina has been pushing for this for almost a full year.  The Director preferred to keep the groups separate; there was one other cell of Freelancers aside from Mother of Invention and Valhalla, and even Carolina knew barely anything about it except that Florida had volunteered to whip them into shape.  She never could get a straight answer out of any of them- the Director, the Instructor, not even the _Counselor_ would tell her what their goal was, keeping the cells from interacting.  For all her mother harped on about team cohesion (and all her father supported individual betterment), they were at least agreed on one thing:

The cells were to remain separate.

Aside from Florida Carolina was the only exception, having been transferred from Mother of Invention to Valhalla for the purpose of finding some thread of discipline among the Freelancers on the station and forcing them to use it already.  What she’d found when she arrived was pretty surprising; they were all friendly with each other, but they all squabbled about whose orders to follow.  Apparently training simulations that had randomly sorted them into Blue and Red teams playing capture the flag had stuck, and the members of the two factions tended to gravitate toward their own and refuse orders from the opposite teams.  The Counselor had loved it for the study but the Director noted that while the rivalry did force them to get creative when completing missions, it also interrupted mission flow and had botched quite a few intel retrievals that had been fairly important.  The Instructor hadn’t had time to go to the station personally, so they’d turned to Carolina to assess the soldiers, fix the problem and report back.  When it seemed like it wouldn’t be as easy as doling out punishment for the troublemakers, Carolina had volunteered to stick around.

That was almost two years ago now.

Working on her parents had been difficult, but it was much easier to convince them once the Counselor threw his weight behind hers.  He’d played on her mother’s insistence on team cooperation and Carolina had insisted that seeing the other agents –the _better_ agents, she admitted- would light a fire under them to improve themselves.  She’s half certain that the Director and Instructor only gave in so she and the Counselor would shut up, but she doesn’t really care about why they relented, so long as they _did._

Still, she might have been working with the Valhalla crew for some time now but she remembered what her old team was like.  Capable.  Harsh.  Occasionally even cutthroat, if she let South and Maine work themselves up into a frenzy.  She doesn’t doubt her soldiers’ ability to give back just as hard as they received but she wasn’t sure if it would end with bonds forged or bloody noses.

Rhode calling dibs on the twins even before introductions was making her lean toward the latter.

“Rhode, shut up,” she tells him.  She has to try and reign this in.  If she lets them get ahead of themselves they’ll never get proper introductions out of the way. 

“You didn’t tell me!  Carolina, _you didn’t tell me_ there’d be hot twins!”

“Who the fuck is this?” South says in her lazy, ‘I would love to rip your balls off’ way that precludes the kind of violence she enjoys the most.

“This,” Carolina answers dryly, “is Rhode Island.  “He’s our alien technology specialist purely by virtue of picking up things that he shouldn’t be fiddling with.”

“Or things I _should_ be fiddling with!  _Bow chika bow wow._ ”

The _MoI_ crew looks at her and Carolina shrugs.  “He does that.  Tune it out.”  She looks over the Valhalla crew contemplatively, not sure if she should just let them loose or not.  It _would_ make things faster, but it could result in a bigger headache for her to deal with later when South or Maine or someone else inevitably tears into one of them for being their usual obnoxious self. 

Michigan finally heaves a sigh before stepping forward.  “Okay, since _apparently_ some of us can’t leave until this shit is over with, pay attention.”  He points to everyone in turn.  “Idaho, hacker and know-it-all.  Montana, violent maniac.  Iowa, probably good at something, mostly just around for morale.”

“Aww!”  Iowa presses a hand to his chest.

“Shut up.  Tex, violent maniac #2.  Rhode Island, King Slut of the whole project.  Massachusetts, strong stupid one.  Virginia, strong stupid one #2, my sister and if you sleep with her I will find a way to break your face.”  He rounds on the perplexed visitors and jabs a thumb at his chest.  “Michigan, recon and vehicles.  Now, I’m going back to my nap because this meet and greet is the dumbest shit I’ve ever seen.  Bye.”

“ _Mitch,_ ” Carolina calls warningly.

“What?!  God, woman, what else do you want from me?  I literally just did your job for you.”

Carolina tilts her head back.  “Alpha?”

The AI’s voice echoes through the hangar.  “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Slot Michigan for fire team leader for the next mission.”

The smirk in Alpha’s voice is obvious.  “You got it.”

“What?!  No!”

Carolina shrugs, and is more than a little pleased when York very obviously tries to hide a snort of laughter.  “You’re the one who said you can do my job.”

“No, I said I just _did_ it!  Not that I _want_ to do it!  Ever!”

“So, do you guys just bitch all day?” York asks incredulously.  “Is that all you do?”

“That’s most of what we-”

“-mean yeah, what else is-”

“-onversation is _really_ important for relationship upk-”

“I like talking!”

Maine’s helmet twitches, barely.

 “All right,” North says slowly, apparently taking it upon himself to do their own introductions before Rhode Island lets out a groan.

“Oh my god, you both sound _so_ hot,” Rhode sighs.

North glances at Carolina.  “I- how should I even respond to this?”

“I mean, he’s not lying.”  Virginia makes fingerguns at South.  “You both sound _way_ hot.”

“She’s Queen Slut, by the way,” Idaho supplies helpfully.

“I swear to god, if you call my sister a slut one more time-”

“Dex, shut up!  I _am_ a slut and I love it!”

“ _Kai, you shut up!_   Don’t use my real name!”

“ _You just used mine!”_

“Everybody shut up,” Carolina orders sharply.  “North, hurry.  They’re hard to keep controlled.”

“Uh.”  North points.  “Washington, Maine, Wyoming, Connecticut, Florida, New York, South and North Dakota.”  He glances at Carolina.  “Are you sure this is a great idea?  Maybe we should do some sort of mingle thing, something more casual.”

Carolina looks over her team, at the way Maine is staring hard at Mass, at Rhode making a very obscene gesture at the twins with Virginia imitating it behind his shoulder.  How is it the _Reds_ are the most well-behaved right now?  “I think you’ve got a point.  All right everyone, we’re heading to Blood Gulch.”

 

* * *

 

‘Blood Gulch’ is what everyone calls the on-station rec room, which is really just a repurposed dining area.  Why the station has two dining areas per kitchen is beyond Carolina, but she doesn’t ask questions about the construction of their bases.  For all she knows the Director bought it on discount _because_ of the design oversight.  He’s always been irritatingly frugal (some might even call him cheap and some would be right).

Even with the social lubrication of food, drink and liquor that is _absolutely_ contraband, the two cells tend to keep to each other as they spread out through the rec room, occupying old couches and chairs.  A few of the _Mother of Invention_ agents start up a pool game at the old scratched table and Carolina gets distracted by the urge to walk over and tell York that he’s picking his shots all wrong when suddenly she hears Massachusetts shout behind her and go stampeding across the room.

She whirls about in time to see him slam directly into Maine, take him to the ground and she’s already searching for Texas so they can try and _control this_ before it gets out of hand when North grabs her arm and points.

“They said you died-” Mass pushes himself up, scrabbles for his helmet and rips it off and Carolina is shocked to see him in _tears._ While the team heavy is usually pretty open with his multitude of emotions, it’s not often she sees him so overwhelmed that he’s shaking.

What’s even more shocking is that Maine touches Massachusetts’s face before reaching up to take off his own helmet.  And then Mass cries out again and throws his arms around Maine’s shoulders, taking them back down to the ground and Maine is _hugging him back._

She looks up to see that the display’s gathered a crowd.  “Okay, _what the fuck_ is going on,” Rhode asks loudly, finally taking his hand off his energy sword at his hip.  Carolina hadn’t realized there was so much _tension_ until she sees most of her agents dropping their hands from their sidearms.

York leans on his pole cue, and it’s only because Carolina’s memorized the sound of a grin in his voice that she can hear it now.  “If I had to guess, I’d say they probably know each other.”

“Okay, well it’s really weird if it’s just those two,” Iowa calls out loudly before plucking off his own helmet and tossing it onto a nearby beanbag.  His chestplate and various other pieces of armor follow shortly thereafter.  Mitch watches for a moment before shrugging and joining in.

“…well, alrighty then,” Florida chimes in cheerfully before stripping off his armor as well.  “I do so love these bonding exercises.  Are we going all the way down, or just as far as we need to?”

“All the way would be great!” Iowa exclaims.

“ _Do not_ remove your survival suits,” Carolina says loudly over the resulting mix of complaints and enthusiastic consent from all parties.  It’s like trying to reign in toddlers.

A few other agents take some coaxing to join in (Wyoming and Montana refuse to join in at all, even under pain of death).  Idaho hangs back awkwardly until Michigan tackles him and wrenches off his helmet, to which Connie exclaims, “Holy shit, you’re a cyborg,” when she sees the glowing red eye.  Florida and Iowa walk off arm-in-arm toward the kitchens, Massachusetts clings to Maine like a limpet despite Maine only reciprocating about ten percent of the time (which is a hell of a lot more than anybody else had expected).  There’s nearly a brawl when the twins remove their helmets and Rhode Island exclaims, “I knew it!  I knew you were hot!  What’re your rates?!” and then when _Washington_ removes his helmet and Rhode Island cries, “Oh my god, _freckles_ , my cup runneth the fuck over,” and Carolina considers just removing Rhode Island from the equation entirely since if there’s anybody who’s going to get killed, it’ll probably be him.

Carolina keeps her armor on, thank you, even when York sidles up to her and spends the better part of half an hour trying to convince her to join the crew.  She has a certain obligation to all of the agents present because if the station were to go into sudden, catastrophic decompression, only she, Texas, Wyoming and Montana would be functional.  “I cannot believe you think of that crap all the time,” York tells her, shaking his head and returning to his pool game.

“I think of it because you idiots don’t,” she calls at his back, a little annoyed.  It’s not like she _dislikes_ fun.  She just also has her common sense firmly intact.

“C’mere you huge bastard,” South says as she drags Massachusetts over to a table by the collar.  “We’re arm wrestling.  I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“South, stop,” North calls after her, trailing Massachusetts worriedly.  “You don’t have to indulge her, really, she just gets competitive about this sort of thing.”

“I like meeting new people!”

“If I make this shot,” Virginia says, very pointedly bending over the pool table in a way that’s probably extremely uncomfortable but shows her ass quite well to a beet-red Washington, “then we’re gonna make out.  Deal?  Deal.”

Washington looks away and sputters.  “I didn’t agree to-”

“Not a romantic?  That’s cool, that’s cool, we can go straight to roleplay.  You can be the cop.”

“ _Virginia,_ knock it off,” Michigan snaps, pushing her off the edge of the table.  “Rhode’s embarrassing enough and he doesn’t have family to think about.  Could you _please_ stop trying to ride anything you can wrap your legs around?”

Virginia shoves her brother and waggles her brows at Washington.  “I don’t mind being the horse, I got some stuff.”

York is almost in tears by the time Michigan drags Virginia off for a talk.  “I don’t see what’s so funny,” Washington protests and that just makes York press his face against the felt of the pool table and shake with laughter.

It’s not until Iowa and Florida emerge from the kitchen with armfuls of wine bottles that Carolina realizes she hasn’t seen Texas for a while.  Come to think of it, Alpha hasn’t pitched into any of the conversations either, which is absolutely unheard of.  “North,” she calls, because he’s at least marginally responsible, “keep an eye on things for me for a minute.”

North gives her a look like _do you really expect me to handle this,_ but Carolina is already gone.

 

* * *

 

“Paranoia is a common symptom of rampancy.”

Alpha doesn’t answer.  Tex clenches her fists at her sides until the metal creaks.  Her gaze bounces between the Director, the Counselor, the Instructor and Alpha’s avatar nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with her.  “The first stage of rampancy is melancholia,” she says, because nobody else is breaking the silence, because _Alpha_ isn’t saying anything.  She’s already formulating a plan.  Priority will be to get him out.  She knows a couple of the agents will help her, even if it means committing treason.  Massachusetts would do anything if she said it was to keep Alpha safe.  “He’s been _fine._   No depression, no apathy-”

“The experiments Charon attempted to conduct may have altered the fragmentation process.” 

Tex hates the matter-of-fact way the Director delivers the news, like it’s just an _observation._   “You might not be aware of it but your bedside manner is shit,” she tells him casually, and she sees the Instructor duck her head with a snort.  “You know he’s right here, right?  You’re saying he’s going insane.”

“It makes sense,” Alpha says finally.  His avatar barely moves from its shoulder-slumped position and that’s a bad sign, that’s an awful sign.  Alpha might be happy without a body but he still prefers to _express_ himself.  “The missing time, the- the inability to focus on imaginatively complex projects.  I’m constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.” 

“That doesn’t mean shit,” Tex argues.  “You’re probably just overworking yourself.  Most AI just manage a single ship, you bounce between _Valhalla_ and _Mother of Invention_ all the time.  Just let FILSS handle the ship and you concentrate on the station.”

“That’s not the reason and you know it,” Alpha mutters and now she’s getting _mad._   This fucking prick is giving up, isn’t he?  He’s actually accepting this bullshit answer.  It’s _lazy,_ it’s _weak,_ and most of all it’s _non-combative._   Church might be shit at actual fighting but he’s _never_ been anything other than abrasive, anything other than ready to throw down and scrap however he needs to so that he’ll get what he wants.  It’s part of his core personality, it’s part of _them_ and he’s ignoring it in favor of laying down and _dying._

“You’re being a fucking idiot,” she snaps, and uploads herself to the grid long enough so that the punch she throws at his shoulder connects an equivalent with his data and makes his avatar stagger.  “You’re _not_ going rampant.  They can’t _force_ rampancy on an AI!”

Her rant at least gets Alpha to snap out of his funk, irritation creeping back into his voice.  “You’re being a dumbass, _obviously they can_ because all rampancy is is corrupted data!  If they were fucking around in there it’s not like they _couldn’t_ corrupt it, so why don’t you stick to punching things instead of _research_ since you obviously have a problem with that?”

“What the fuck did you just say to me, Church?”

“I called you a goddamn moron, that’s what I said to you!”

“Both of you shut the hell up,” the Instructor snaps, pinning them both with a glare.  “Save your spats for when we’re not working on shared time.  And you, Alpha?  Buck up.  Stop being a little bitch.”

Alpha sputters and Tex folds her arms.

The Instructor half-turns to look at the Director.  “Leonard.  I know you’ve already planned for this.”

“Not this exactly,” the Director says, “but yes.”

“Okay, so stop being dramatic and tell us already.”

The Director scowls.  “Alpha, open file G366.BN.Restore.”

A white square of display data pops up.  “Password?”

“November Sky, 3-25.”

The Instructor snorts.

The Director ignores her as data fills the screen; brain scans, neural maps, fragmentation theories and papers fill the holographic chamber.  “The Counselor and I have been working on a cure for rampancy for quite some time now.  We haven’t made much headway…until now.”  The Director fixes Alpha’s avatar with an acid-green stare.  “The data we recovered when you were retrieved helped fill in some missing pieces.”

Tex shifts her weight when she feels a ping.  Alpha’s avatar remains unmoving but now a channel connects them and through it, she can feel his building apprehension, his suspicion and fear.

It’s all changed.  Alpha and the Director were so close at first; they’d play chess together, Alpha would excel specifically in order to impress the Director, always returned from their meetings glowing because the Director was _so impressed_ with him, because he was _so incredible._   Tex had thought it was kind of pathetic, but she gets it.  Wanting the approval of the person who made you is ingrained in the human brain, maybe.

Ever since they got Alpha back though, he’s changed.  He avoids the Director wherever possible.  He limits their interaction, except for when he spies on the Director working in his office with an unhealthy obsession, like a prey animal watching a predator pace outside their cage.  Alpha hasn’t voiced any of his concerns to her directly, but Tex can tell.  Alpha is _terrified_ of the Director now.

There’s probably no basis for it, but whether or not his fears are justified isn’t her concern.  When Alpha requests a line to the hardware of her suit Tex opens it up.  _I will get you out if something happens,_ she promises, and his relief bleeds through bright as starlight.

“So, what can we do?” he asks, bolstered by her support.

“You fragment yourself purposefully,” the Director says.  He reaches up for a particular report and pulls it to the forefront.  “Dr. Halsey has already made progress on the restoration of an AI whose host is still alive and has since published her work.  While only theory, the Counselor is confident that if we create another neural map from my brain, we can repair yours.”

“But you’re older,” Alpha argues.  “It won’t be the same.”

“No.  You _will_ experience some behavioral changes, but you will still be you.”

“Why should he fragment himself on purpose?” Tex asks, pulling a little more of Alpha into her hardware.  For his peace of mind, not hers, obviously.

“We’ll need to clone my brain again and that takes time.  Purposeful fragmentation will slow the degradation of his neural pathways in the meantime.”  The Counselor turns to address Alpha directly, “You _will_ become less effective and you may experience some discomfort, but as long as you retain your memories you’ll still be yourself.  Anything else can be repaired with the neural map upon its completion.”

Alpha’s agitation settles into Tex’s simulated nervous system and makes her want to either take a swing or bolt.  “So the plan is to have him _mutilate_ himself.”

“We’re talking about _survival,_ Agent Texas,” the Director interjects.  “Officially, there is no cure for rampancy.  And we cannot allow an unstable AI to have control over our systems; one misstep in logic and he could vent the atmosphere, killing everyone on board in seconds.”

Panic spikes inside of her again and Tex flinches.  “That _won’t_ happen,” she forces out.  Alpha’s avatar flickers next to her and the Director glances between them sharply.

“Agent Texas, do _not_ attempt to host Alpha.  Alpha, let her go immediately.”

Texas holds on for a moment, a metaphorical fist around Alpha’s hand before she releases him and feels him reluctantly slip away.  “I wasn’t- I wasn’t going to do anything,” he whispers into the quiet of the room, and his avatar begins to move again.  “I was just nervous.  I’m just nervous about this.  Cut me some fucking slack.”

“I’m the one who pulled him in.”  Texas takes a step forward.  “And I’ll tell you why: I don’t like this.  I don’t like the _smell_ of this.  I don’t believe you actually have his best interests at heart.”

“You overstep your bounds, Agent Texas,” the Director warns.

“I don’t fucking care what my bounds are. I’m telling you right now, I _will_ be present for everything that happens, and you’re gonna make it so that _nothing_ goes on without my prior knowledge and consent.  If you’re gonna incapacitate him with this treatment then I’m the one acting in his best interests, not you.”

The Director glares, then turns his glare onto the Instructor, who shrugs.  “You’re the one who wanted to separate them,” she points out.

 _Don’t tell me thank you,_ she sends to Alpha.  _I’m doing this for myself, too.  They’re going to learn that we get the same rights as they do.  This isn’t just about you._

Alpha still thrums with kinship and Tex can almost feel it, can feel the part where they split to make them who they are.  Maybe Alpha isn’t even truly Alpha without her.  Maybe he’s fragmented already, splintering off the Director’s memories to create a whole person, pulling that out of himself because it’s _lonely, too lonely_ he’d said, being alone in himself.  She’d thought it was kind of pathetic, but she can’t argue with the end result if that’s the reason why she’s alive.

“Alpha,” the Director finally settles on, “you shouldn’t take time to think about this.  Thinking will _not_ be your friend.”

“Right,” Alpha mutters.  “Just jump right into it.  Okay.”  His avatar simulates looking to Tex, and she knows that’s more for the benefit of the humans in the room than for them.  “You’ll be there?”

Like there’s any other answer she can give.  “Sure.”

 

* * *

 

Carolina freezes when the doors to the briefing room slide open and reveal Agent Texas’s impassive helmet. 

“Excuse me,” Texas drawls when Carolina doesn’t move.  Carolina can see just past her shoulder the entire command structure and Alpha’s avatar, which glances at her before winking out.

“What’s going on?  Was there a briefing?”

“Not one that _you_ need to know about.”  Texas shoulders past her and the door slides shut.

Carolina glares at her back before keying in her security clearance and stalking into the briefing chamber.  “Is there something going on?”

“No, Agent Carolina,” the Director sniffs.  “Nothing that regards your duties or any upcoming missions.”

“How did the introductions go?” the Counselor asks curiously, and though he seems genuinely interested Carolina’s pretty sure he’s most just attempting to change the topic.  She’ll allow it, for now.

“Fine.  Though Massachusetts and Maine apparently knew each other before.”

“Don’t worry, we already took that into account.”  The Instructor smooths her hair back.  “It’s fine as long as they don’t try to contact any of their old squad.  Alpha?  Keep a lookout for that.”

“You got it.”

Carolina looks between the Counselor, the Director and the Instructor.  “If there’s something I need to know, you’ll tell me.”  She knows these people; trying to wrench information out of them would be pointless, but as long as they know she’s not satisfied one of them will eventually give her a heads up.  It’s always a game of tug-or-war with her parents.

“There is something, actually.”  The Instructor rolls forward.  “C’mon, walk with me.”

“Allison-”

“Shut up Leonard,” the Instructor says easily.  “Can’t expect her to lead a team effectively without intel, can we?”

The Director scowls and folds his arms.  “All right.”

“Come on.”  Carolina glances back at her father before falling into step behind her mother.  The chamber doors slide shut behind them and the Instructor turns toward the offices.  “Agent Texas is going to be removed from the mission roster for a while.”

“What?”  Carolina stops, then lengthens her paces to catch up.  “Why?  Is she being disciplined?”

“It’s not that.  Alpha’s overtaxed himself since we recovered him from Charon; Texas is going to provide maintenance support, that’s it.”

“Is he going to be all right?”  Carolina thinks of the endless support, the training missions he’d built for them, thinks of the way he remembers everyone’s favorite foods and requisitions.  She thinks of the days Massachusetts spent pacing around the station, wringing his hands until they’d heard back about where they were holding Alpha.

“He’ll be fine.”  Her mother stops and rests a hand on Carolina’s arm and she knows then, with a wave of relief, that no matter how much information is kept from her, her mother would never outright _lie_ to her.  “Hey.  Trust me, I know your dad has his issues, but Alpha _is_ important to him.  He’ll do everything he can to make sure Alpha’s all right.”

Carolina searches her mother’s face before nodding.  “Yes ma’am.”

“Atta girl.”  She pats Carolina’s arm.  “You just keep your team in order.  If they ask about Alpha, you can tell them he’s resting but that everything’s fine.  We’d tell you if it wasn’t.”  She rolls further down the hallway before pausing and turning.  “Oh, and tell your boyfriend he could at least send me a letter or something if he’s going to fool around with my only kid.”

Thank god she didn’t take off her helmet when everyone else did.  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Your fuck buddy then.”

“Oh my god Mom, no.”

 

* * *

 

“Okay so, you can sleep in here.  I mean, if you don’t want to sleep somewhere more comfortable.  Like my bed.”

“I’m fine here,” Wash says hurriedly, squeezing past Rhode lounging in the doorway and into the guest quarters.  “There’s a lot of empty rooms on this station, huh?”

“Yeah, well.  I mean, it was built to support a staff of like six hundred, and there’s only us and support staff so like…a quarter of that?”  Rhode scratches his chin.  “You sure you don’t wanna fuck?”

“Do you seriously just ask people that?” Wash asks incredulously, stacking his armor by his bunk.  “Just flat out, just like that?”

“Uh yeah, why not?”

“Because, it’s.”  He flaps his arms.  “Don’t you wanna get to know someone first?”

“Believe me dude, you get to know someone _pretty quick_ once your dick’s up their-”

“ _Oh my god._   No.  Thanks, I really don’t want to.”

Rhode leans against the doorjamb.  “Damn.   Well, just don’t sleep with Virginia.  If she gets you and I don’t even get a chance I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Wash clears his throat.  “Sure.”

Rhode jerks a thumb over his shoulder.  “Weight room’s down the hall to the left.  Training room’s across from it.  We’ve got a bunch of pre-loaded sims but if you don’t like any of ‘em, ask Church if he’s working on anything.  He usually is.”

“Church?”

“Alpha.”

“You guys call him Church?”

Rhode squints.  “You don’t?”  He shakes his head.  “Anyway, my room’s three doors down that way.  If you need anything come over, just don’t ring the bell, you’ll wake my kid.”

Of all the things he expected to come out of Rhode Island’s mouth, that was not one of them.  “Your _kid_ is here with you?  I thought everyone-”

“Yeah no, not everybody here hates their families.  My kid coming with me was the only reason I agreed to this setup.  I mean, it’s not bad and all, I like it, but if they’d said no I would’ve told them to take a hike.”  Rhode shrugs a shoulder.  “I’ll introduce you sometime. Just not now.”

“Oh.  Okay.”  Wash isn’t sure he wants to meet anybody’s children and he’s a little concerned about what kind of nurturing environment a special ops base could provide, but considering the devastation from the Covenant wars everywhere else this is probably paradise.

“ _Also_ if you change your mind about the fucking, just message me.  I’ll be right over, I mean like _right_ over-”

“Please get out.”

 

* * *

 

“You know you don’t owe Alpha anything.”

Tex turns to regard the Instructor curiously.  They don’t speak often; not privately anyway, largely because Texas hardly requires instruction and the Instructor has to divide her attention between the less capable Agents to make the Project truly effective.  “I know that.”

“Just so you know.”

Tex sets down the tool she’d been using to calibrate her elbow, pressing her fist against her knee.  “You speaking from experience?”

The Instructor smirks.  Tex wonders if she would have a face like hers, if she ever took the time to build an avatar.  Probably not.  No, she’d pick something completely different.  “The Director and I have our differences.  You shouldn’t be treating him like an enemy here, though.  You both have the same goal.”

“I’m not so sure.”  Tex plucks up the tool again and resumes maintenance.  “Alpha’s a commodity to him.  A thing.”

“Alpha’s his investment.”  The Instructor runs her hands over the rails of her wheels.  “As well as an irreplaceable component to this Project.  You can trust him to do whatever it takes to make sure Alpha gets through this, as whole as can be expected.”

Tex leans back and slams the tool down, taking a moment to calm herself.  She tilts her head back and stares up at the ceiling before fixing the Instructor with a stare.  “Why do you use that clunky thing?”

“Cybernetics would have to go into my spine to work right.”  The Instructor shrugs.  “Very likely the surgery could paralyze me from the neck down if something went wrong.”

“You chickened out?”

The Instructor snorts.  “I weighed my options.  Leonard needed military expertise for his Project to succeed; I needed a job.  My other options were honorable discharge, or six months surgery recovery plus two years rehab, and that’s _if_ it was successful.  I’m getting on in my years.  Don’t recover like I used to.”

“You could get something automated.”

“This keeps my arms buff.”

“Do you regret it?”

The Instructor pauses.  “…I don’t think so.”

“You don’t owe him anything either, you know.”

The smile that curls into the Instructor’s face is a sharp one.  “Believe me kid, I know that way better than you.”

 

* * *

 

“So you guys were in the same squad.”

Massachusetts nods, face pressed against Maine’s shoulder.  Maine shoves him off with a long-suffering expression.  “Training,” he grunts.

“Man.  What are the odds?”  York folds his arms and leans back against the pool table.  “Can you guys talk about any of it?”

“Nope.”

“Yeah we’ll get in trouble if we do, so nope.”

“Hey.”

York, Maine and Mass turn to see North hovering by the door.  “You guys going to bed?  It’s late.”

“Yeah, I guess we’d better.”  York pushes off the table.

Maine snorts.  “Carolina.”

“Shut up,” York hisses, kicking the leg of Maine’s chair and ignoring his smirk.

When the door slides shut and _still_ Massachusetts hasn’t let go of Maine’s arm, Maine sighs and forcibly detaches him and stands.  “Bed.”  Massachusetts jumps up and latches right back on, face shoved against Maine’s shoulder.  Maine grunts and shoves at him.  “Stop.  Go to bed.”

“If I go and then you’re gone in the morning then I will be sad,” Massachusetts warns, finally letting go.

“Won’t be gone.  Go.”

Massachusetts paws at Maine’s hand before reluctantly stepping back.  “…okay.  Can we fight tomorrow?  You and me?”

Maine nods.

“Okay.”  Mass’s chin wobbles and he throws his arms around Maine one last time.  “Gah, I’m so happy you’re alive!  I cried so much when I thought you were dead!  I’m so happy!”

Maine sighs and pats his back, then shoves Massachusetts to the door and stares until he leaves.

“Good god, I thought he’d _never_ go.”  Wyoming sighs and saunters in from the kitchens.  “You all right, mate?  Ready to get started?  Where the devil is-”

“Ahh good, we’re all here.”  Florida sighs, brushing off his survival suit.  “So sorry I’m late, gentlemen.  That friendly Iowa fellow sure can hold his liquor.  He’s absolutely out now, though, we should have _no_ interruptions.  Ready to get going?”

Maine nods.  “Have to be back by morning.”

Wyoming fishes out a weapons bag from beneath one of the beanbag chairs.  “I likewise have an engagement.  Let’s make this quick, shall we?”

“Absolutely.”  Florida plucks up his helmet and settles it back onto his head.  “Happy hunting to us all!”

 

* * *

 

“You don’t have to help me with this.”

Idaho shrugs a shoulder, spinning the lock until the pins click into place and the second tier pops up.  “I was curious too.  It’s fine.”

“You could get in serious trouble.”  Connie leans over his shoulder and watches him work, either not noticing or not caring how he tenses up immediately and almost fumbles the lock.  “I’m not talking dishonorable discharge.  I mean very, very serious.”

“W-well, that’s what offshore bank accounts and three backup identity histories are for,” Idaho answers more confidently than he feels, which is saying something because he sounds pretty nervous.  The lock pops open after he passes the third security tier and he blows out a breath, sitting back on his heels.

“So what the fuck are _you_ two doing?”

Connie and Idaho snap around to see Texas in the doorway, arms folded, backlit by the hallway lights and the impending dread of a furious ass-kicking.  Or maybe that’s just what Idaho saw, because Connie straightens up and glares right back.  “None of your damn business.”

“Whoa, okay.”  Idaho holds his hands up and stares between them.  He’s fine with hostility, except for when he’s located directly in the middle of it and in danger of being trampled.  “Uhhh, we were just um- y’know, we’re lost.”

“Lost,” Texas repeats.

“Yeah, you know, we’re sneaking into the pantry.  For booze and shit.”

Connie is glaring at _him_ now.  “You moron, you _live_ here.  She’s not gonna buy that.”

Idaho sputters.  “She would’ve bought it if you’d just played along!”

“No I wouldn’t have,” Texas declares.

“See?  She wouldn’t have.”

“Why are you on _her_ side?!”

Texas takes a step forward and Idaho isn’t even embarrassed by how he flinches, because he enjoys living and Texas menacing nearby usually means people aren’t going to be doing that much longer.  “ _Ida._   I’m gonna ask you again.  What.  The fuck.  Are you doing?”

Idaho glances at Connie, who shakes her head sharply.  “…on a scale of one to ‘kill me,’ what’s your reaction gonna be if I don’t- _oh my god,_ ” he whimpers when Texas buries her fist in the paneling beside his head.  “We were trying to sneak into the server room to get into the encrypted files!”

“ _Idaho_ , you _rat._ ”

“Hey, I didn’t even tell her that it was your idea!”

“ _You fucking rat.”_

Texas jerks her fist out of the paneling.  “Why’re you guys trying to look into the encrypted files?”

Connie glares at Idaho before shoving in front of him, growling at Texas.  “Because we want to see Alpha’s logs.  We think there’s something seriously wrong.”

Texas tilts her head.  “And if there is?”

“We just wanna help!”  Idaho edges away from the two Agents staring each other down.  “We swear.  Church’s been all kinds of weird lately.  He’s trailing off in the middle of sentences, he never does that!”

“I know,” Tex says simply.

“You-” Idaho falters.  “You know?”

“I do, and the Director already knows about it.  It’s being handled.”  Texas turns away.  “The two of you need to mind your own business.  Alpha doesn’t need you poking your noses where it doesn’t belong, he’ll be fine.”

“Right, so what about the money?”

Texas pauses at the door as Idaho swings around to gape at Connie.  “The- what?  The money?”

Connie lifts her chin.  “Director didn’t tell you about _that,_ did he?  Teacher’s pet.”

Texas glances over her shoulder.  “What did you call me?”

“Hold on, what about _what_ money?”  Idaho stares between them.  “There’s money missing?  Someone’s stealing money?”

“Not missing.”  Connie stares at Texas before looking over to Idaho.  “A _whole_ lot of money just showed up in the books, and I can’t figure out where it came from.”

“You’re not supposed to be in the books at all,” Texas points out, but at least she doesn’t sound like she’s going to put her fist through either of them this time.

“Why don’t you tell me something, Tex: when do people get paid?”

Texas doesn’t seem inclined to answer so Idaho clears his throat awkwardly.  “Erm, when they provide goods and services.”

“Yup.”  Connie nods.  “Wanna know when that money showed up in the books?”  She looks between them.  “Right after Charon grabbed Alpha.”

Idaho gapes at her.  “Wait, _what?_   Are you saying-”

Connie leans in.  “So when you tell me that the Director’s _handling_ Alpha, that doesn’t give me a whole lot of confidence that he’ll be _fine._   And I don’t know about you, but when this program gets audited and it gets discovered that there’s some shady shit going on behind the scenes, _I’m_ not gonna let them drag me down with them.  So are you gonna help me find out what’s going on, or would you rather sit around and wait like a good little doll?”

Texas marches forward and looms over Connie, fists clenched tight at her sides.

“Ooohhhkay,” Idaho murmurs, leaning back.

“You know I think I _will_ tell you something, CT,” she says lowly, “and I want you to hear it so try to dig that self-righteousness out of your ears first.  You should _stop_ playing detective.”  She jerks her chin toward Idaho.  “Dragging other people into it without letting them know the whole deal.  Putting together pieces that don’t fit.  I don’t give a shit about the Director, and I don’t care about the Project.  You wanna know what I care about?”

Connie sneers.  “Alpha?”

“Wrong.”  Idaho’s sure that if Texas had a face, she’d be sneering right back.  “I care about the _both_ of us.  I care about how AI are treated, and how we’ll be treated from here on.  I’ve already got a plan for if things go bad and I don’t want you,” she snaps toward Idaho, “or _you_ fucking it up because you two are moonlighting as the Hardy Boys.”

“I always read Encyclopedia Brown,” Idaho murmurs.

“Back.  Off.”  Texas leans back and Idaho can breathe again.  “Mind your own business, and you won’t have to worry about getting dragged down into anything.”

The sound of her bootfalls is heavier than usual as Texas leaves the way she came.  Idaho slumps back against the wall with a sigh, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his forehead.  “Jesus, she’s scary.  I thought she was gonna beat the shit out of us.  You don’t think she’ll tell anyone, do you?”  He glances over to see Connie standing still, brow furrowed.  “…hey.  C’mon.  We should do what she says.  If she already knows about it that means she won’t let anything happen to Alpha, right?  I mean, that’s the biggest thing.”

“I still don’t like it,” Connie mutters.  She grabs his arm and Idaho squeaks.  “Come on.  There’s something else I want to see.”


End file.
